The Visionary
by pacejunkie
Summary: What if Claire were the one having visions of Charlie’s death? AU fic that plays havoc with canon – among other things, Charlie does not attack Sun.


**Title:** The Visionary

**Rating:** PG/K+

**Summary:** What if Claire were the one having visions of Charlie's death? AU fic that plays havoc with canon – among other things, Charlie does not attack Sun.

**Characters:** Charlie, Claire, Sun, Desmond

**Word Count:** 8,808

**Disclaimer:** I may not own Lost, but I'm not going to let that stop me.

**A/N:** This fic was inspired by a trailer of the same name by **littletonpace**. I thank her for giving me permission to write this tale.

When Claire was nine years old, she saw her Nanna Molly die. She wasn't really her grandmother, but surely Claire imagined the old woman who lived next door must have been as anxious for an extended family as she was, living with only her mother and her aunt. Claire would watch her through the fence in the afternoons groaning over creaking joints and swatting blowflies in the sweltering summer heat as she bent to pull weeds from her garden. She was fascinated by her, with her wide brimmed sunhats, bright red clogs and the little tune she would hum as she worked. No one ever came to visit her, and Claire came to wonder whether that was what she would be like when she grew older, alone but for the most part content. After weeks of staring, Claire was finally welcomed over with a warm smile and a wave.

"Come and visit with me dear," she beckoned, gently blotting the sweat from her face with a real cloth handkerchief, "inside where it's cool."

Claire stepped shyly across the boundary and that was the beginning of their friendship. She would stop by most days after school and be treated to milk and biscuits and photo albums filled with sepia-toned people in grand clothes. The air in her drawing room smelled of exotic spices. Claire imagined that the woman came from royalty and had once enjoyed lavish parties and cruises aboard luxurious steamer ships. She would listen as Nanna Molly told her stories about her travels to America and England.

One day as she was visiting, Claire was suddenly overcome with a heavy feeling inside her. She put down the photos and began to cry.

When Nanna Molly asked her what was wrong Claire said, "I don't want to be alone when I grow older."

"Oh dear, I'm not alone," she explained, "and neither will you be, as long as you're never afraid to open your heart."

"That's it?" Claire asked, never imagining she could control her destiny so easily, "Really?"

"It's harder than you think," she said, handing Claire a large piece of cake, "but the rewards are a lifetime of love and memories."

Two years later Claire was dressing for school, straightening out her uniform in the standing mirror when the image before her eyes was suddenly replaced by another. She staggered slightly at the shock of it, as she found herself standing in Nanna Molly's living room as the poor woman clutched her chest and fell to the floor. Claire gasped in alarm and ran to find her mother.

"Mum!" she called through the house, "something's happened to Nanna Molly!"

Her mother appeared in a doorway, unmoved. She had always questioned the odd attachment that her daughter had with that dotty old woman, and wondered whether this was just another sign that the cord should be clipped.

"What are you talking about Claire?" she asked, a basket of laundry in her arms.

"I saw her," she said, "in my room. She was falling, and…I think she's hurt."

"Do you mean you saw her out your window?" she asked, confused. "In her garden?"

"No, she was in her _house_," Claire realized as she caught her breath, "but I saw it. How could I have seen it?"

Claire's mother put the basket down in the hall and led her back to her bedroom as if to make her point infallibly, "Molly's not here. You couldn't have seen her. I'm sure you just imagined it."

"But it felt so real," insisted Claire, "Maybe we could just call her."

Ms. Littleton had had enough. She turned her daughter around and marched her downstairs. "I think you've been spending too much time with Molly, it's beginning to upset you. I don't want you to worry about her. She's getting on in years but she's strong as an ox and can take care of herself. Now go on then or you'll be late for school."

Claire felt a tug in her heart in the opposite direction as she listened to her mother. What she said made rational sense and yet somehow, Claire knew her mother was wrong. She watched her neighbour's house from the car window as they pulled away. It looked exactly the same as always; and yet there was something about it that had changed, as if it had become an empty shell that no longer housed a life. It was only later when she had learned about things like auras that she realized that was what it was.

The home's aura was gone.

She arrived home from school that day to see the ambulance parked in front and Nanna Molly's enshrouded body being taken away. She was deeply saddened but not surprised. That was the first time Claire had felt that perhaps her mother didn't understand her.

It was also the beginning of Claire's love of astrology, her longing to look to the stars for answers, to understand why she and the old woman had shared this connection. She star gazed, she brought books home from the school library and studied the signs of the zodiac. She learned she was a Scorpio, and that her element was water. Courageous, loyal and possessive, Scorpios had a strong survival instinct and a deep intuitive sense, as well as a contrary nature and a tendency to hide true feelings. It was considered the most powerful sign of the zodiac.

From her mother's reaction, Claire learned that psychic visions were something to be ashamed of, something to keep secret. Although they continued sporadically and often harmlessly over the years, she kept quiet about them for fear that others would look at her as her mother had done that day, like there was something wrong with her. When she began to feel this way, she would retreat to her astrology books and feel special again, as if the universe understood her.

* * *

Claire had her first vision on the island the night she moved to the caves. She had gone at the behest of Charlie, the young Englishman she had met her first night there. He was kind and reassuring, and seemed particularly concerned for her well being. As much as Claire preferred to remain independent, she had to admit that being nearly nine months pregnant, a little attention wasn't such a bad thing. She was alone and scared as they all were, but also wary, as they were little more than strangers that had been thrust together in the strangest of circumstances. She knew nothing of Charlie except that he was funny and sweet, and not at all put off by the fact that she was, as she had once put it so bluntly, a time bomb of responsibility waiting to go off.

The cold packed earth of the cave floor was a bit harder for her back to accept than the soft white sands of the beach, so sleeping that first night had been difficult. Claire tossed and turned on her blanket, waiting for sleep to claim her when she was seized by an image of a man hanging from a tree by his neck. Although he was blindfolded and soaked, she recognized him by his beard and his clothing – the same clothes that he had been wearing that day when they had walked to the caves together. His skin was blue and he appeared quite dead.

Claire sat up and screamed, waking the entire camp in their close quarters.

"Claire?" asked Charlie, crawling over to her from his own spot just a few feet away. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?"

Claire stared back at him as if he were a ghost. Here he was, healthy and whole, but for how long? She wondered if she had allowed herself to get too close, like she had with Nanna Molly, selfishly craving the attentions of another.

"Nothing," she lied, "it's nothing, I'm sorry."

She could tell he wasn't convinced, but she was able to fall asleep that night just knowing that Charlie was close by and safe. The next day, however, when he appeared slightly distant and put off by her, she decided to tell him the truth as they walked on the path to the beach.

"A psychic?" he said.

"I know, it's embarrassing," she admitted with a shrug. "I just get these flashes of things and then they happen. It's not always bad. Sometimes I just know what someone's going to say before they say it, or the next song that plays on the radio. And sometimes it's something…bigger." She smiled so as not to alarm him. "I should play the lottery, right?" she joked.

Charlie didn't laugh, but walked on with her in silence as he considered her words. He must have put it together finally because he stopped and turned to look at her.

"So," he began, "are you ready to tell me what you saw last night?"

Claire shook her head, "It's probably nothing Charlie…"

"But _you_ don't think it is," he said, reading her mind so that he appeared psychic himself.

"I don't even understand it," she protested. "It's like that sometimes, just images that don't make sense…"

"It made enough sense to scare you," he noted. "What was it?"

She sighed. "I saw you. And you were dead. Someone had hung you from a tree by your neck, and…"

She stopped to take a deep breath and calm her trembling voice, gauging Charlie's reaction. His eyes searched and his voice broke over any possible explanation.

"But we're just a bunch of plane crash survivors, who would do such a thing? There's no one here that wants to hurt us," he said. "I'm sorry Claire, I want to believe you, but I don't want to believe…that."

"I know," she said. "I don't want to believe it either."

But an hour later, they were abducted by Ethan and Charlie was left for dead.

* * *

Claire was missing for over a week. She was found in the jungle one day, unconscious from exhaustion, with memories of a medical facility and men who wanted to take her baby from her. Someone had brought her back to camp and she awoke in the caves. The first one she needed to see was Charlie.

"Charlie!" she cried as she awoke in a panic to find herself among her people again. "Where's Charlie?"

Jack veered back in surprise and then stepped aside to allow her friend through. "I'm right here Claire," he said, coming forward and taking her hand. "Are you all right? We thought we'd lost you."

"Charlie, what happened to you?" she asked.

"To _me_?" he stammered. "I'm fine Claire. You're the one we were worried about…"

"You know what I'm asking! Now tell me the truth," she insisted, sitting up and looking him straight in the eye, a silent communication for the two of them alone. "What happened?"

Charlie turned away from her accusing stare, and as he did Claire reached out and grabbed his jaw, keeping his head turned, to examine the enormous black bruises ringing his neck. Charlie winced, reached up and gently pulled her hand away, embarrassed.

"Claire," he said quietly, "please don't worry about this. As you can see, I didn't die. Jack and Kate, they found me and saved me. All's well that ends well right? I'm just glad you're back."

But Claire wasn't satisfied with a happy ending. She decided that she would pull back from her friendship with Charlie, for his sake. He didn't appreciate the distance, particularly after what they had both been through, so he pressed on, forging a relationship like a salmon swimming upstream. Each time he advanced, she pulled back, telling herself she wasn't sure of her feelings, masking her heart as only a Scorpio could.

* * *

It was about six weeks later, when Aaron was just a few weeks old, that Sun discovered she was pregnant. She appeared overjoyed on the surface but Claire could sense the woman's mixed feelings. Judging by her troubled relationship with Jin it wasn't hard to see why. So Claire decided the woman could use a friend, as well as some hands on practice.

They began spending quite a bit of time together, sharing stories of their lives before the island, chatting like mockingbirds as Claire demonstrated diapering a baby with a torn t-shirt. Charlie visited less frequently in those days -- finally getting the hint that Claire wasn't ready to commit to more than a casual friendship, never guessing that she might have been protecting him. He remained in the background but still ever present, ready with a quick smile or a wave, like an understudy in the wings anxious for his moment on stage. Claire focused on other relationships, like getting to know her new son.

One day, the rain fell hard and heavy on the beach without warning as it often did. Claire was huddled under the one dry corner of her tent watching over Aaron when suddenly he was gone. In his place was Sun, struggling and screaming as someone was dragging her through the jungle. Claire's eyes scanned the beach around her the moment the image faded, hoping to find Sun and somehow give her some kind of warning, but as the clouds parted and people began to reemerge from their shelters, her friend was nowhere to be seen. She picked up Aaron and gasped as a second flash showed Sun lying on the jungle floor with a bleeding head wound.

Her heart raced. She had to find Sun, but she couldn't risk the whole camp wondering how she knew. If she asked someone to watch Aaron now in her frantic state they would suspect something was going on. That left the only person who already had her confidence.

"Charlie!" she called, running to his tent to where he sat, strumming his guitar.

"Can you please watch Aaron for me?" she asked him as he looked up. "I have to do something but it will only take a minute."

"Yeah, absolutely," he said, as eager to help as always. He laid the instrument aside and reached up to take the bundle of blankets and squirming infant, a smile spreading on his face. "Where's the fire?"

"I'll explain when I get back!" she called, and ran off before he could detain her further with his curiosity.

She knew just where to go. She ran to Sun's garden and then followed the drag marks in the mud that she knew would be there. Claire did this without regard for her own safety because she somehow sensed that the danger had passed. Whoever had done this was long gone. A few more feet and there she was -- a tiny sodden unconscious form. When Claire couldn't wake her she ran back to the tree line and called out for help.

Sawyer and Kate were the first to answer her call. After they retrieved Sun and brought her to Jack's tent, everyone gathered around, asking for details on what had happened to her. Charlie stood on the sidelines as always, watching the commotion with Aaron asleep in his arms. Anxious questions flew at her from all directions.

"Who did this to her?"

"What was she doing?"

"Did you see anyone?"

Claire fielded them with the few bare facts she had rehearsed in her head only seconds before – she had been in her tent putting Aaron to sleep when she heard someone yelling for help. She took Aaron to Charlie and went in search of the sound and that was when she found Sun, injured and alone. She didn't see an attacker.

The questioning died down when Sun began to stir and then all eyes turned to the victim. After assuring herself that her friend was all right, and knew little more about the incident than Claire herself did, Claire went to retrieve Aaron and escape to her tent.

She found Charlie on the edge of the thinning crowd, eyeing her a bit too suspiciously.

"You didn't hear any yelling," he declared.

Claire reached over and took back her son. "What are you talking about?"

"There are four other tents between yours and the jungle," he said. "No one else heard anything."

Claire glared at him and then turned to head back to her tent. "Well maybe they were all distracted," she said.

To her chagrin, Charlie was right on her heels. "Do you want to know what _I_ think?" he asked her.

"I don't know. Do I?" she sighed.

"I think you _saw_ it, if you know what I mean," he stated, quite proud of himself.

They reached her tent and Claire turned her back on Charlie, placing Aaron down gently in his crib. It was too much to hope that he might be gone when she turned back.

"Don't be silly," she said. "I told you I was in my tent."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Sun," he observed. "Is that the way it works? Do you only have visions of people you're close to?"

He was drawing uncomfortably near to the truth. Claire tensed, unwilling to entertain his line of inquiry any further. She spun on him, allowing her anger to take over, wielding it like a shield against his insinuation.

"Are you saying this was _my_ fault? That I made it happen?" she accused.

Charlie's eyes grew wide in surprise at her outburst. "No! Of course not, but you have to admit there could be some connection…"

"I don't _know_ how it works!" she cried. "I didn't see anything! Now thank you for helping out with Aaron but if you don't mind I'd like to be alone now."

Charlie knew her well enough to sense a losing battle. When Claire got like this, there was nothing that could calm her but time. Claire felt her usual twinge of guilt after she lost her temper with Charlie. It was as cruel and yet as easy as kicking a puppy. He even bore the same wounded look afterwards.

She watched his back as he left, his words hardening in her stomach like cement. What _was_ the connection between her visions and the dangers? Was she supposed to save these people or could she actually be the reason they were in danger in the first place? Whatever the answer, it was all the more reason for her to keep a wide berth from Charlie.

* * *

It turned out to be easier said than done. Despite their informal separation, Claire discovered over the following weeks that she couldn't get Charlie off her mind. She knew it was wrong, but she found herself watching him from across the camp, taking note of who he spent his time with, wishing he were with her. She had never noticed the way his hair curled at the base of his neck before or how his smile made his eyes twinkle. _Stop it_, she scolded herself, _you sound like a lovesick schoolgirl._ This was no playground. Claire knew that the risks of opening her heart could be dire on both ends. She would have to work harder to discipline herself, focus on her son, and be content in her solitude and independence.

She would be just like Nanna Molly.

Thankfully, Claire had never had visions involving Aaron. She didn't understand why that was -- after all, the child was closer to her than anyone -- but it was an enormous relief that she dared not question. It wasn't as if he were in no danger either; the baby had only narrowly escaped being lost to Ethan and his people, but she never saw that coming. Perhaps it was just a merciful blessing that a mother should never be subjected to images of danger involving her child. Claire was certain it would have been too much for her to bear. It was possible then that there really was no connection between her relationships and her visions, and that it truly was random. In fact, she had hardly known Charlie at all when she had her first vision about him, she reasoned. Unless even then her heart knew something that her head didn't.

After watching Charlie gather his things and retire into his tent for the night, Claire lay down smiling with an entirely inappropriate image of Charlie in her mind, in her tent and in her bed. Thomas had left her when she was six months pregnant. Claire had been alone for so long. _Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to just talk to Charlie again,_ Claire thought, _to let him know that I'm thinking about him._ She decided to do that first thing in the morning. She pictured him standing in front of her as she did this, his mess of blonde hair hanging in his eyes, boyish face full of hope, encouraged by her invitation. His hands would come to rest on her hips as they leaned into one another, eyes closing…

Her fantasy was shattered by the point of an arrow, slicing through the air and landing in the dead centre of Charlie's throat. He never saw it coming. He struggled for air in vain as he fell backwards into someone's (was it Jin's?) waiting arms. Blood sprayed across her vision as if it were the lens of a camera.

Claire sat up and screamed and screamed and screamed.

She knew she must have woken the whole camp but as always Charlie was the first to cross her threshold. In that moment he was her entire world. He knelt in front of her and held her shoulders tight, calling her name. She wanted to collapse into him but instead she pushed back, refusing the embrace she had desired so wantonly only moments before. He held on fast.

"Claire, would you talk to me?" he asked. "What is it?"

Claire could only shake her head, her throat too tight to allow words to escape, as if it had suffered the same damage she had just witnessed. She wouldn't tell him, no matter what he did, but still Charlie wasn't letting go.

"What happened, dude?" asked Hurley, out front and leading the charge of the frightened campmates at the rear. "Was it an intruder?"

Charlie turned back to Claire for the answer. She couldn't stop shaking, the afterimage of Charlie still haunting her thoughts.

"No," she managed. "No, I'm sorry. I just had a nightmare."

Her fellow islanders looked almost disappointed as they returned to their tents murmuring, woken by a false alarm. Claire felt embarrassed for having caused such a disturbance. While everyone else had gone, Charlie was still holding on to her, rubbing her arms gently. It was selfish, so selfish of her but she prayed he wouldn't leave. She accepted his comfort but avoided his gaze.

"You're not going to tell me what it was are you?" he asked softly.

He was absolutely right. Claire shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Charlie dropped his arms and looked at her with regret, pushing back slightly to sit on the sand.

"No, I am" he said, a sharp edge in his voice. "I'm sorry you don't trust me enough to confide in me, and let me help you."

"Charlie," she said, her heart breaking at his misunderstanding. "It's not that…"

"Well, what is it then?" he asked her, his impatience rising.

She reached over and took his hand, watching as his fingers curled eagerly around her own. She wished they didn't have to talk – that they could just be there together without words to get in the way.

"There's nothing you can do," she said.

Charlie sighed, looking over at Aaron who was now wide awake in his crib from the excitement. "Would you at least let me take Aaron for the night so you can get some sleep? That's something I can do."

Claire's chest tightened. She didn't know where or when that arrow would strike but she was suddenly petrified at the thought of Charlie alone with her son. She didn't want to hurt him but she wasn't taking any chances where Aaron was concerned. Claire dropped his hand and backed away.

"No," she said emphatically.

Charlie was puzzled at the change that came over her, and Claire was certain if he hadn't been so concerned for her he'd be downright irritated. Instead he frowned and rose to leave. Suddenly Claire had an impulse and called out.

"But you can stay here," she said. "I mean… if that's okay."

He stopped and turned back. "Of course it is. I'll stay."

Claire put on her kindest smile as a peace offering and settled back down on her cushions. Charlie put Aaron back to sleep and then stretched out next to her. For now, Charlie was fine, and he was nearby where she could keep an eye on him. Maybe that was the solution after all. Her mind emptied as she finally drifted off to sleep to the sound of his soft breathing. The warmth from Charlie's aura kept her nightmares at bay.

* * *

The next day, Charlie was up and out early and returned to announce that Desmond had asked him to join on some kind of camping trip.

"Are you going to be okay on your own today?" he asked Claire as he packed up his bag and his guitar.

"I won't be alone," she said, looking down at Aaron in her arms. "We'll be fine. Who else is going?"

"Jin and Hurley," he said, calling over his shoulder as he walked off. "It ought to be a laugh."

When he said _Jin_ Claire was seized by the same image that had assaulted her the previous night. It was Jin who had been holding Charlie after the arrow had hit him. Claire didn't know what to do but she knew she had to do something. She could simply tell Charlie not to go, make up some excuse, but did she know for certain the danger wasn't closer to the beach? Claire couldn't afford to second guess herself; she needed to look out for Charlie, or to have someone do it for her.

She ran to find Desmond. The newcomer was in his tent, packing his own things for the journey.

"Hello Claire," he smiled.

"Desmond," she greeted. "Charlie tells me you're off on a camping trip."

"Aye," he said. "It was Hurley's idea, a little male bonding. I don't have the heart to tell him we already live in tents and sit round campfires every night."

She laughed politely. "I was wondering if you could do something for me."

The tall Scot strapped his pack over his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked.

"Could you keep an eye on Charlie?" she asked. "The jungle is full of booby traps -- nets, rocks…arrows."

"Arrows?" Desmond repeated, looking puzzled. Then he brushed it off and smiled. "He means that much to you, does he?"

Claire blushed. "If he knows I'm worried he might not go, and I don't want to interfere, but it's a dangerous island…"

Desmond put a hand up. "Say no more, I understand. I'll keep a look out for your Charlie, and we'll bring him back in one piece. I promise."

"Thank you," she said.

Before he turned to leave Claire made one final request.

"Oh, and Desmond? It might be best if he didn't know I had asked you…"

"It will be our little secret," he said with a wink. "But between you and me, that Charlie's a lucky fella."

_That may be_, thought Claire, but she wasn't going to rely on pure luck to protect him.

* * *

Charlie and the group returned the next day, relaxed and joking, but Claire couldn't help but notice the crude piece of stone protruding from his guitar. She spotted it as he was hastily laying it down beside her bed and attempting to cover it up with his sweatshirt.

"What happened to your guitar?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, pretending to sound casual. He glanced down at it as if he only just noticed. "Oh that. It was no big thing. I'm just a clumsy sod. I stepped in one of Rousseau's death traps and set off an arrow, but Desmond knocked me out of the way in time."

"An arrow?" said Claire.

She went ghostly white and sat down on her bed before her knees could give way completely. Charlie was visibly cursing himself for having frightened her, completely ignorant to the real reason for her reaction, as if she had just dodged a bullet herself.

"Oh God, I'm sorry Claire, it was nothing really," he assured her. "I'd been in worse scrapes than that. I wasn't even going to tell you. It was lucky our button pusher's got some quick reflexes right?" he joked.

"Yeah," she breathed, staring at the arrowhead that had impaled the guitar's neck. "Lucky."

* * *

The element of her sign was water, and for Claire it meant that she was nurturing, particularly attuned to mood and emotion, and could act as a healing force in relationships.

For Charlie however, water only meant death.

Claire began to notice the pattern when the visions starting coming closer together. She hadn't realized at first that it had been raining during both the hanging and the incident with the arrow, but less than a week later, she saw lightning hitting her tent during a freakish rainstorm. She was quite a distance away of course, and the skies were bright blue, but moments later the clouds moved in and she saw Charlie running towards her tent for cover. Leaving Aaron with Rose, she took off towards him, oblivious to the soaking rain except for the danger that it prophesied.

"Charlie get out of the tent!" she screamed, barreling towards him.

Charlie looked at her as if she had sprouted another head, but Claire was undeterred. She pushed at his shoulders to force him back out into the storm.

"Claire what are you doing?" he shouted.

He took a few steps back and then held his ground at the edge of the tent's frame, allowing her to displace him only so far without an explanation. Claire felt a rush of adrenaline as she tackled him around his middle like a rugby player, drove him backwards for several feet and threw him down into the wet sand. Her show of strength surprised even herself. As they hit the ground together Charlie smiled for an instant as if it were all a game.

"Well, if you want to jump me you don't have to make a…"

He was interrupted by a bright flash and a crack that split Claire's tent in half. Claire buried her head into Charlie's chest as his arms flew instinctively around her, still on top of him. They both turned to see her tarp in flames and hear the sounds of frightened campmate's screams.

"Bloody hell," he said. "Are you okay?"

Claire nodded and blushing, rolled off and offered Charlie a hand up. They joined with a handful of others who pitched in spontaneously to put out the fire. All through their work, Charlie didn't say another word but Claire could practically hear him thinking. Her insides were still shaking and Charlie's sudden silence was doing nothing to put her at ease.

After the volunteers had gone and Claire was hanging up her things to dry Charlie reappeared and found his voice.

"Don't try and tell me that was just a coincidence," he said.

Claire didn't know what to say. It was useless to deny it but at the same time what could she do? She was seeing Charlie's death over and over and she didn't have the faintest idea why or what she could do about it. At the same time as she felt herself getting closer to him she feared losing him. It was a conversation she didn't even know how to have, involving feelings she wasn't ready to explore. There was nothing for it but silence.

"Fine, deny it if you want," he said, "but if you're not careful, people are going to start questioning your stability. Everybody saw what you did."

Claire spun around to face him. "Is that a threat?"

But Charlie had nothing more to say that he wouldn't regret. He turned and walked away, leaving Claire with her own regrets. If Charlie stayed angry at her, how could she protect him?

* * *

After that the visions came fast and furious. They struck her at all times of the day and for no apparent reason – Charlie falling onto a jagged rock reef in the ocean, drowning while swimming, diving from a boat into the deep and not reemerging. Whether they were spurred on by her heightened emotional state or something more metaphysical, each flash meant a new death for Charlie, and for reasons Claire still couldn't understand, each one had something to do with water. Claire knew there was no way she could prevent them all.

Charlie hadn't spoken a word to her since the lightning storm, but for now all he had to do was listen. She was ready to speak. She found him at last sitting under a tree with his guitar and his notebook spread out in front.

"Writing a song?" she asked as she strolled up.

Charlie dropped his pen and looked up. "For all the good it will do me," he said, "unless we find a hatch with a Dharma recording studio in it."

Claire smiled and sat down beside him. "Keep writing. We're going to get rescued someday Charlie."

"Oh yeah," he asked, interested. "And how do you know that?"

"Because you told me so once," she replied, "and I believe you."

His face fell at her response and Claire knew Charlie was expecting more so she didn't hesitate to add, "And you were right, I haven't been entirely honest with you and I'm sorry. I did see Sun get attacked before it happened, just like I saw your hanging… and the arrow that Desmond saved you from."

"And the lightning?" he asked.

Claire nodded. "But there's more, quite a bit more actually and it scares me. I guess that's why I'm afraid to talk about it. Lately I've been seeing you drown in different ways and at different times, but always drowning and I don't know why. I don't even know if I can prevent it."

Charlie put an arm around her shoulder. "Maybe it's not for you to prevent."

She looked at him with alarm. "You can't mean that."

"I just mean maybe that's not the reason for it, Claire," he explained. "This is a dangerous island. We've seen a lot of deaths here. Maybe you're just afraid of something happening to me because…well, because you're finally realizing you care."

"You once said you believed me," she said, "back when I told you I was psychic. This is more than just an overactive subconscious Charlie."

"Well you've certainly proven yourself by now," he said darkly, "I just want to believe that our futures aren't fixed like that, that we can change things if we want to. I'll be fine. I don't want you to worry about me whether what you're seeing is real or not."

"Just promise me you'll stay out of the water," she asked.

Charlie smirked, "Can I bathe?"

"Charlie I'm serious," she said. "If you want me to not worry you have to promise to take extra care when I tell you to."

"My own personal guardian angel? I like that," he said, nuzzling her neck. "What could possibly happen?"

* * *

Charlie listened. He stayed out of the water to appease Claire and all as well, until one day the picture changed again, replaced by a new yet strikingly similar danger. Charlie was in an underwater station somewhere, trapped in a small control room as the water rose to the top and over his head. Claire choked slightly at the picture before her eyes that took over in the middle of breakfast, only taking a full deep breath when the image cleared. She didn't know what he was doing down there, but she vowed to herself to keep him from going.

The next day a boy called Karl arrived from the Others' camp to warn them that his people were coming to attack them in the night and take the women. It was decided they needed to signal Naomi's ship offshore and call for rescue, but Juliet said that Ben was blocking communications. Claire stood among the group and watched as Jack selected Charlie to swim down to the Looking Glass station and turn off the jammer. Charlie agreed without hesitation, knowing it could lead to the rescue they had all been hoping for. Desmond offered to go with him.

Claire knew that this would be the event that would claim Charlie's life. She waited until the meeting broke and then followed him as he quickly turned in the opposite direction, avoiding her gaze.

"Charlie," she called. "Why are you doing this?"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Did you hear them? They're coming to attack us again. We have to get off this island and this is the only way to do it."

"Don't go," she said, tears welling up in eyes. "I've seen it. You're going to drown."

A brief flicker of fear rose up in his face before he beat it back down. "I told you not to worry. I'll be fine."

Claire shook her head. "No, you won't be. I'm right about this, you have to believe me."

Charlie sighed and led her over to her tent where they sat. "Claire, there's something you need to know."

Claire didn't know how Charlie could possibly know more about the situation that she did, when she had seen it already, but she also knew that Charlie had been talking with Desmond, Jack and Sayid earlier that morning. His lack of surprise over being assigned such a dangerous mission told Claire that he was holding something back from her. He took her hand before speaking.

"I know it's a suicide mission," he confessed. "And not because you saw it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Juliet said the station is flooded," he explained. "They need someone to swim down to the station and flip a switch. They didn't say anything about swimming back up."

Claire's heart skipped a beat and she felt lightheaded. She was glad she was already sitting down because even in this position her legs turned to jelly. Looking at Charlie, she was amazed that anyone could be so calm in the face of certain death. His voice was steady and his eyes clear. She had never seen him so determined about anything. She could barely form the words to ask him.

"But how could you…_why_?"

"To get you and Aaron off this island of course," he said. "It's worth it."

"No, it isn't," she cried. "Don't you _dare_ presume to tell me it's worth it. What good is rescue without you?"

"It's a life for your son," he said, undeterred, "with schools, shops and hospitals. It's a bloody roof over your head that doesn't leak. He could have friends, learn to ride a sodding bicycle. He'd be in civilization and away from danger. That's what's most important. You have to think of him."

"He wouldn't have a father," she noted.

Charlie looked away but he couldn't hide his sudden attack of emotion. She was wearing him down. _If she could just try a bit harder… _

He swiped at his eyes before continuing. "Claire…"

"Don't do this, Charlie," she tried. "I don't want to be rescued without you."

She thought she saw something -- a slight hesitation indicating indecision possibly -- but in the end her spirits sank when he spoke with a finality that told her the conversation was at an end.

"I have to. We're all in danger right now it doesn't matter where we are. The entire camp is counting on me."

For all the arguments for risking his life there was one that was irrefutable. Claire knew how badly Charlie had always longed to be respected by the leaders of the camp. She recalled many long talks with him about being left out of the decisions and of rescue missions, his opinion never taken into account. When Ethan had returned to threaten them all, the others wouldn't even allow Charlie to join in to protect Claire, and that slight still stung. Looking at Charlie now, she believed he would even go so far as to risk all to be remembered a hero, rather than to be disregarded in this life. With everyone else bearing arms and facing down the Others on the front lines, she knew it would be unbearable for him to refuse to do his part, and he could never live with himself afterward.

"Charlie, just promise me you won't go down without a fight," she said, "that you'll try and save yourself after you flip that switch. For _us_. We need you."

"Of course I will," he said, but Claire wasn't sure if he was only saying it to appease her.

Despite his intentions, if her visions were accurate, she didn't think he would make it without her help. She kept it to herself but a short while earlier she had had one more vision, one that didn't make sense to her until now.

She saw Desmond returning to the beach alone.

* * *

Two hours later Charlie and Desmond had gone, and Claire was packing up along with the rest of the camp. As she worked she searched her mind, trying to conjure a new vision that could put her at ease, but there was nothing. Finally the camp set out in a line, marching towards the radio tower where they would call for help if Charlie was successful. It took Claire a bit longer than the others because of Aaron. Sun stopped by after saying goodbye to her husband.

"Claire, are you ready?" she asked.

Claire looked at her friend and tried to summon even an ounce of her strength. They were very much in the same position right now, not knowing if they would ever see their loved ones again, men who had gone off to battle to protect them. She was grateful for Sun's support.

"Yes, I'm coming," she said as she bent to scoop Aaron from the crib and saw something dark poking out of his blanket. She picked it up.

Charlie's ring.

The guitar had been destroyed; between the two of them they owned practically nothing. If Charlie died today, this would be all that was left of him, all she would have to remember him by. She didn't even have a single photo. As she held the small piece of jewelry in her hand, she imagined herself alone, sleeping at night with nothing but the ring for company, waking each morning without her Charlie to talk to. She imagined a future without his smile and a son without those loving arms around him. It was a vision she would do anything to prevent. She put the ring in her pocket and turned to her friend.

"Sun, I need you take Aaron for me and join the others," she said.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I have to help Charlie," she said. "Promise me that if neither of us comes back you'll take Aaron for us and raise him."

"What?" said Sun alarmed. "Claire, you can't do this. Charlie wouldn't want you to."

Echoes of Charlie's voice rang in her head but it was not an admonishment. Suddenly she knew what he had meant when he had used these very words himself.

"I have to," she said, with the same determination as the one who had said it before her. "I'll be fine, but Charlie needs me."

"But Desmond is with him," Sun pointed out. "He can help if there's trouble."

"Sun, I don't have time to explain right now but I just know it has to be me. I don't know why exactly but I know I'm the only one that can do it," kissing Aaron, she turned and left before Sun could stop her.

She heard Sun calling her name, but Claire wasn't turning back.

* * *

Claire walked the beach until she found the cable in the sand and the drag marks from the canoe. Grabbing onto the cable, she used it to tow herself out to where Desmond sat waiting in the boat. When she got close enough she could see him staring at his watch. Desmond looked up in surprise, and then reached out to pull her in. The water was frigid and she shivered.

"Claire, what are you doing here?" he asked. "You're supposed to be off to the radio tower."

"You're going to need me," she said.

Desmond smiled, looking her tiny frame up and down, no doubt wondering what she could possibly do for him.

"Is that right?" he said.

Claire drew herself up. "Yes, it is," she declared. "Now what were you doing with that watch?"

Desmond picked the timepiece up again and looked at it. "I'm timing him. Charlie swam down three minutes ago. If he doesn't return after five I'm going down after him."

"No, you're not," Claire said. "I am."

"_Are_ you now?" said Desmond. "I don't think so miss. Your Charlie would never forgive me if something happened to you."

"You won't be able to save him Desmond. Only I can," she said.

Desmond remained unconvinced, "And how's that you seem to know so much about it? Is this another arrow? You trusted me then. I saved him once before I can do it again."

Claire hesitated, not knowing where to begin, and in that moment of hesitation Desmond was proceeding with his plan.

"It's five minutes," he said. "Wait here and you can help bring us back to shore."

Desmond pulled off his shoes, took a deep breath and dived. Claire watched the surface of the water until the ripples disappeared. Then she counted to ten, giving him enough of a head start so that he wouldn't notice her behind him, and jumped. She swam until her lungs burned, eyeing her destination – an enormous underwater station with an opening at its centre through which Desmond was now swimming up. Claire followed, bursting through the surface to find Desmond standing over a dead body on the deck.

"Who is that?!" she screamed.

Desmond whipped around, his face a mixture of anger and surprise, and then he reached over to help her out of the pool.

"It's not Charlie," he declared. "It's a woman that was shot. There's another one in the water that you didn't see."

Claire turned around and this time she noticed the other dead woman face down in the pool. Her stomach turned. Desmond called for Charlie as Claire looked around. When she came to a chair she gasped. At the foot of the chair was a pile of ropes. Droplets of blood sprinkled the floor. Suddenly she had a flash and saw Charlie tied down. The dead women were hitting him, asking him questions he refused to answer. Claire winced with every blow. She scanned the station again, looking for a third body, afraid she was too late.

Just then a blast shook the floor beneath them and knocked them both off their feet. The station's joints moaned and the percussion from the explosion made her ears ache. Claire clutched the moon pool ladder, disoriented and paralyzed by another vision. A tall man in black had untied Charlie from the chair and was about take him off somewhere, when Charlie ducked and ran into a small room off the main chamber and locked himself in.

"Claire!" Desmond called, running to her still frozen on the floor. "Claire, are you all right?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I'm all right, and I know where Charlie is."

Desmond looked around the large chamber, no doubt wondering what Claire was talking about. He took her arm and lifted her up and she ran straight to the small door in the back of the room. The wheel refused to turn. As Desmond struggled with it, Claire looked in the window.

She could just make out Charlie in the bottom left, floating in the water.

"Charlie!" she screamed.

Desmond looked in the chamber. "The explosion must have broken that round window and flooded the room. But it's too small, we'll never get in there. "

"I can get in there," Claire said. "If I'm lucky I can get Charlie out."

"Claire," Desmond said gently, "It looks like we're too late."

"Don't say that," she said. "The blast was just a minute ago. That's cold water. He could survive in there if we don't waste time. We'll never make it back to the surface in one go so we'll bring him back here."

She set off for the moon pool at a run with Desmond at her side. Taking deep breaths they dived and swam the shortest route to the chamber window. It took only a few seconds to reach it, but as they drew near Claire could tell right away that Desmond was never going to fit through. That didn't stop him from trying however; possibly hoping that Charlie was in arm's reach of the opening. After a few more wasted seconds of useless chivalry, Claire pulled Desmond back out of the way and swam through.

She found Charlie in the opposite corner. Taking him under the arms she pulled him towards the window where Desmond waited. Charlie's shoulders made it through but just barely and with some manipulation; it was a rather rough tug to get the rest of him, but once he was freed Claire followed them out and they swam back to the moon pool with Charlie between them.

After coming so far she couldn't imagine they wouldn't go all the way and revive him, so Claire was full of optimism when they laid Charlie out on the station deck and Desmond began CPR. That optimism faded a bit when a full minute went by, and then another. Claire closed her eyes as Desmond counted, searching her mind for a vision of Charlie alive. She imagined them together, off this island, sharing a home with Aaron in school. _I can't lose him,_ she thought. _I won't._

_I love him._

She opened her eyes when she heard a splash of water and a choking cough.

"Desmond," Charlie panted, shivering, looking up at the man who held him, "you saved me?"

"No brother," said Desmond with a wide smile, "it was your Claire."

* * *

The campfire was warm and comforting. Charlie was in dry clothes but still had a chill. Claire covered him in blankets and forced hot drinks on him as they sat together, watching the flames, much like they always had. The ring was back on his finger where it belonged.

"I remembered my promise to you," he said. "I meant to get out. When that eye patched git killed those women and came at me I ran to hide in the control room. While I was in there I flipped the switch like I was supposed to. Then the mad bugger showed up at the window with a grenade. The window exploded; I hit the wall with my head and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the station floor. I don't even remember drowning."

"Well that's a small blessing I suppose," Claire said. "I imagine that would have been terrifying."

"It will all have been worth it if rescue comes," he noted.

"It will," she said. When he gave her a curious look she added, "Not because I saw it, just because I feel it."

They sat in silence for another minute until Charlie asked, "Claire, why did you risk your life to save me?"

Claire was taken aback. "Do you really have to ask?"

"I think I do," he said, "particularly since you just dodged my question."

Claire thought for a moment. "Although you're right that Aaron deserves to grow up in civilization, he also deserves to grow up with a father and you're the best one he's ever had."

"Is that it?" he asked, frowning.

"No," she said, sliding up a bit closer. "I've been left behind too many times. You once promised you wouldn't leave me and I'm holding you to it. Maybe I have used the visions as an excuse to keep a distance from people. But I realize now that if you don't risk, you don't love."

Claire kissed him and they warmed each other. As Claire felt Charlie's arms hold her close she thought that maybe she wasn't destined to go through life alone.

She wondered whether somewhere, somehow Nanna Molly knew it too.


End file.
